


Interlude

by InfinitelyStupid



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Spoilers, also a pre-response to s13e18, i guess?, i'm sorry i tried, response to s13e17, tuckington feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 20:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4801370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfinitelyStupid/pseuds/InfinitelyStupid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment caught between episodes 17 and 18. Wash and Tucker spend some time together before shit hits the fan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude

Before it all begins, they manage to find themselves a moment of peace. The calm before the storm. Or, perhaps, they are just standing in the eye of the one that has already viciously ripped through Armonia. Crash Site Bravo is a flurry of activity and tension, soldiers moving with purpose between the armouries and garages, the command centre filled with noise and nerves and hard expressions.

Tucker finds Wash there, standing between Carolina and Kimball as they tweak and cement the plan for the next day’s assault. Carolina hasn’t removed her helmet once since reuniting with the sim troopers, but now it sits on the makeshift desk beside Kimball’s own headgear. Wash is the only one in the room with his helmet firmly in place - Tucker is not surprised. Wash doesn’t like leaving himself unprotected, even among allies.

He catches Wash’s attention with a tilt of his head and starts back to the door, turning back in time to see Wash lean in and murmur something into Carolina’s ear. She gives a brief nod without taking her eyes off the outdated maps and markers in front of her, but Epsilon does make a short appearance to flash him a sarcastic thumbs up. Washington ignores it. 

He waits for Wash outside, leaning on the stretch of broken panels that used to serve as a wall. The command centre is situated inside the wreckage a few levels above the old base, and from where Tucker stands he can see across the entire canyon all the way to the old red base. The wall panels had been badly damaged in the crash, and now the corridor acts as a catwalk. He takes a seat in a convenient opening further along the catwalk, legs dangling over the edge as he removes the stuffy helmet. His vents may not be clogged with years of sweat and grime like Grif’s, but the muggy heat of Chorus is too much even for his gear sometimes. He rests it beside him and leans back of his hands, watching the hustle and bustle below him.

There is a soft clacking of armour against metal as a body settles beside him, and he doesn’t need to look around to know who it is. He does look down when he hears something being placed next to him. Wash has removed his helmet, and Tucker takes a moment to take in the sorry state of it. Dings and scratches across the faceplate are few, but across the sides he can see hints of an old cobalt paintjob from another life shining through the damage. He doesn’t want to think about what put it there. 

He hears Wash shift slightly to get comfortable and looks back out over the canyon. There’s always a canyon.

“Feels like years since we saw this shithole.” Wash doesn’t look his way, but Tucker knows he’s listening. Wash is doing that inquisitive head tilt he doesn’t realise he does. “Still, think I’ll be sad to leave so soon. As fucking dumb as it sounds.”

“I guess this place kind of grew on us.” Wash doesn’t smile, but his face shifts. Tucker thinks he almost looks fond.

“Yeah. You think we could come back? Just for a couple of days. Then we could get on the first ship off this bullshit planet and go home.”

“I think Caboose would like that.”

“Oh come _on_ , don’t pretend you don’t like this place just as much as the rest of us. I _know_ you, Wash.”

“You can’t prove anything.” Tucker grins at the small smile on Wash’s face. It’s been so long since he’s seen it. “But . . . yes. If we don’t get the chance, I’m glad we got to see it again. Blame it on . . . sentimentality.”

“We’ll get the chance, Wash.”

Washington finally turns to look at him, and Tucker definitely does not flinch at the sad smile that plays across Wash’s lips. His grey eyes have that looks he sometimes gets when Tucker finds him at 4am clutching a mug of coffee with dark smudges under his tired eyes.

“You will. I’ll make sure of it, Tucker.” he says calmly, like he’s commenting on the weather.

“ _We_ will _._ ” And this isn’t right. When the fuck did Tucker turn into the guy who gives motivational speeches? When did Tucker become the person who reassured the hopeless, who inspired action? (and okay discounting that one time he got angry and told the truth to the lieutenants, and it wasn’t his fault they decided he was someone worth following, so.) That isn’t his job, it belongs to the man sitting beside him, still wearing that stupid sad smile, who is looking at him was a hint of morbid humour and an air of acceptance shrouding him. Something hot comes alive in his chest.

“Wash, don’t you do this - don’t you fucking do this to me. Don’t you dare go into this not expecting to come out. Don’t you _dare_ go into this looking for stupid, self-sacrificing, heroic opportunities. I will kill you _my goddamn self_ if Carolina comes back and says _‘oh, hey, the bad guys are dead and the planet’s saved! Oh, and Agent Washington grabbed Locus and took a header off a cliff because it was the only way!’._ No. Fuck that.”

“Tucker, you say that like I _want_ to die. I don’t. But the odds are against us and you know that my job – and Carolina’s – is to be bait. To stall. Every fight we go into, we have to be prepared for the worst. We’re soldiers, Tucker, this is what we do.” He sighs. “Not everyone comes back.”

Tucker stares.

“I know that, Wash – I’m not a complete idiot. Most of my team was killed, remember? But I also know that you don’t have the best track record when it comes to avoiding unnecessary risks. It’s like you see one option as the only option sometimes. You see risk, and run towards it. On purpose. I think it’s a freelancer thing.”

“And what about Felix and Locus? They’re dangerous, Tucker. Freelancer-dangerous. You were stabbed last time we went up against them.”

“Guess who else is Freelancer-dangerous, Wash?” Tucker raises his eyebrows pointedly and tilts his head down at the blond man. When Wash frowns, it pulls the scar at the edge of his eye tight and wrinkles the one on his lip. He tries not to get distracted. This is important.

“Carolina and I have some sanity left between us. There is a difference.”

“So they’re unpredictable, sure! But you guys can take them. You got separated last time and got fucked up, right? So this time don’t get separated. You don’t need to beat them, Wash. You’re stalling for time, not trying to blow them into tiny little asshole flakes.” 

Wash doesn’t respond immediately, but he does seem to look at Tucker carefully. Tucker knows the Freelancer’s brain is turning everything over carefully. He squashes down the urge to touch Wash in some way, knowing the older man won’t respond well while he’s in his own head. He may be looking at Tucker, but he isn’t _seeing_ Tucker. 

“I don’t know what will happen on the field.” Tucker tries not to show his disappointment. He feels drained all of a sudden, the fight leaving him in an instant. Wash’s next words take a moment to process. “but. You’re right.”

Tucker looks up sharply.

“We only have to survive until Doctor Grey’s squad do their job, then we can pull out and regroup with the main assault.” Tucker lets out a breath through his teeth – one he hadn’t realised he’d been holding – and moves the helmets between them so they’re out of the way. Wash raises an eyebrow at that (and no matter how hard Tucker has tried in a mirror, he’ll never be able to recreate that perfect arch – or admit to trying in the first place) and Tucker scoots into the new space until he’s pressed knee to hip to shoulder with Wash. Wash glances down the empty corridor and relents by placing an arm around Tucker’s armoured shoulders in a loose embrace.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“Sure. But if I’m coming back then you are too, same as me. No slacking, Private.” Tucker elbows him.

“It’s Captain now, you fucker.” Wash elbows him back and tightens his hold on Tucker, drawing him in to his chest. Tucker takes it as an invitation and rests his head against Wash’s collar. He tucks his head under Wash’s chin and lets himself relax into the welcome warmth. 

“Captain Tucker. I didn’t realise they rewarded laziness and acute lewdness in the army now. I assume Grif is second in command these days.” Tucker snorts.

“Nah. Him and gold team cause too much trouble for the kitchen staff to be classed as completely lazy. They’ve actually gotten surprisingly good at stealth missions. I slept my way up the chain of command thank you very much – respect the classics.” Wash manages to dig his chin lightly into the top of Tucker’s head in warning, chuckling at Tucker’s squawk of indignant protest.

“You were saying?”

“I was saying that I have definitely slept my way up the chain of command since - according to you – Freelancer outranks everything?”

“And you would be completely correct.”

“Damn straight.”

“Eehh, not so correct.”

“Maybe you’re my exception.”

“Maybe you’ve been practicing your cheesy lines again.”

“Grif says it works like a charm on Simmons, dude.” Wash’s silence is a pointed one, and Tucker hides a grin against Wash’s neck. He feels it anyway and allows a small answering smile to flit across his face.

They sit quietly for a few more minutes, enjoying the peace until Tucker speaks up again, tone hushed and serious.

“You gotta come back, Wash.” Wash blinks slowly and presses a lingering kiss to Tucker’s forehead. He pulls the man closer still.

“I will. I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> This has been written up in a notebook since the night episode 18 aired, and I finally got around to writing it. I'm not entirely happy with the writing in this piece, but hey! Practice! Anyway, thanks for reading! :3


End file.
